


One Night and One More Time

by gotatheory



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Spanking, a tiny reference to the queen's teacher kink, because no kink is off limits for the queen apparently, mention of Rumbelle, mention of outlaw queen, some references to past sexual assault, something like hate sex, usual messed up power dynamics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-11
Updated: 2016-12-11
Packaged: 2018-09-07 18:38:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8811742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gotatheory/pseuds/gotatheory
Summary: Post-6.07, started before 6.08 so it doesn't take any canon past 6.07 into account. After cursing the Charmings' heart, the Evil Queen wants to celebrate. Rumplestiltskin drops by to kill Zelena, and the Queen convinces him that maybe there are better methods of revenge.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I started this after 6.07, knowing that the end was coming for this ship eventually. So I guess this could be considering a little in memoriam fic. I'm sure this isn't the end of me writing Golden Queen, though. I love this trash ship too much for that. As usual, contains references to Rumbelle and minor mentions of Outlaw Queen. Usual warnings apply, re: Golden Queen’s particular brand of twisted and complicated consent. Warning for a minor reference to sexual assault.

The Queen is celebrating. After her brilliant curse against the Charmings worked, she returned to her sister’s little farmhouse, intent on having a party to commemorate her triumph. God knows where, it’s not as if she has any friends to occupy her time, and the Queen is a little put out that no one else is there to acknowledge her genius in cursing Snow White’s heart. It’s probably for the best anyway, considering how she and Zelena left things back in Gold’s shop.

Her sister hadn’t been placated by the knowledge that it was Regina who set her up, considering there was still that matter of the Queen lying to her about her relationship with Gold. As if her relationship was any of Zelena’s business in the first place, and it had taken everything within her to not point out that she was the _Evil_ Queen. Zelena could hardly be upset that someone with “evil” in their title also lied when the occasion called for it. Not to mention that she honestly hadn’t felt like going five rounds on Zelena’s jealousy and how her sister only wants Gold because he chose her to cast his curse.

The Queen tried to be good — well, as much as could be reasonably expected of her, considering that she didn’t particularly care about Zelena’s feelings and she had better things to do than make her feel wanted — but by the end of it, Zelena was still surly and a little green around the gills when she left the shop.

Whatever. Her sister is missing, but it hardly matters when Snow and her shepherd have been separated once again. It’s time to celebrate, and she’s fine celebrating alone. It’s not as if being alone is a new sensation for her, unlike those “heroes” who get everything handed to them.

So she fixes herself a drink, peeks in on the baby to see that she’s gone as well. Hopefully Zelena hasn’t lost her somewhere , and there’s a part of her — some tiny, little part that carried over from her weaker half — that wants to go find the baby. Wants to make sure she’s okay, because she’s all she has left of—

No. This is a celebration, and she won’t let the weakness of her other half distract her from her cause.

She has her red apple martini, toasts herself in the mirror for a job well done. She can even convince herself that this is what she wants, that she is slowly destroying the Charming family and her insipid other half, and that that will make her happy.

The door blowing open is almost a relief.

She assumes it’s Regina, having discovered her twist on the sleeping curse and come to try and talk her into fixing it or something equally goody two-shoes and ridiculous. But it’s not, it’s Gold, and the Queen can’t help but grin.

“Well, hello,” she says, her voice going low, and she arches her body to display her cleavage better (though her corset is doing a fine job on its own). They were interrupted earlier, she remembers, and perhaps she doesn’t have to celebrate on her own after all.

“Where’s Zelena?” Rumple growls, and that has her frowning. He’s supposed to choose _her_ , not her sister.

“She’s not here,” the Queen replies, and she lets her fingers of one hand dance around the rim of her martini glass. She reaches for the apple slice garnish, seductively bringing it to her mouth and dragging the fruit over her bottom lip. “Perhaps I could interest you instead?”

This Rumple is quite the change from the one she had seen earlier in his shop. The one who couldn’t take his eyes off her breasts or her lips when she came to “thank” him for the vial of water. This Rumple seems entirely unreceptive to her flirting, shaking his head, and saying, “I need to — ah — _speak_ with your sister.”

She narrows her eyes at him, dropping the apple back to her glass. “About what?” she asks, wary now as she takes in the tension in his frame. She’s seen Gold angry enough in their shared lifetimes to know what he looks like when he’s feeling murderous.

“About a conversation she had with my wife,” he grits out, hands clenching into fists at his side, and the Queen scowls.

“I see,” she grumbles, and she doesn’t have enough awareness to realize she’s being the petulant one now. “I take whatever little _Belle_ had to say to you didn’t go how you wanted? Is she still under the correct notion that you’re a monster incapable of love?”

His jaw twitches and the Queen takes a little satisfaction in her barb successfully connecting. “I didn’t come to talk to _you_ about Belle,” he says, glaring at her. “Now. Where is Zelena?”

“I told you, I don’t know,” she sighs, waving a hand dismissively. “I imagine she’s hiding somewhere because she must have known you’d come looking for her.”

Rumple’s face pinches in displeasure, and the Queen decides to try again. She saunters over to him, swirling the alcohol in her glass and staring at him from under her lashes. Taking a sip, she licks her lips and says, “But that’s enough talk about Zelena… I didn’t get to properly thank you earlier because of her. Why don’t we pick up where we left off?”

It has the desired effect. His eyes drop to her mouth, lingering there as she places her hand on his chest. She leans in, close enough that their lips are almost touching. “I can take your mind off… things ,” she purrs, eyes half-lidded as she waits and watches.

She can see how conflicted he is. He wants to find Zelena, but he wants her, too. It’s in the way his breathing catches and the way he can’t quite look away from her lips, and he hasn’t pushed her away. So she leans in, closes the inch of space between them and captures his mouth with hers.

The Queen almost expects him to pull away, to say no. He’s so fickle, so mercurial, and he always has been. She remembers his ever-changing moods in the Enchanted Forest, how the tiniest thing would set his anger off. She knows now that it was all about feeding her anger, her insecurities, that he needed her to feel unloved and unwanted and incompetent. Alone, isolated. All so he could get what he wanted.

Now, it’s about what _she_ wants, and she wants so much more than this, but this will do for the time being.

It seems Rumple agrees, because he kisses her back, tilts his head as her tongue coaxes his mouth open and slips past the barrier of his lips. It’s not as passionate as the kisses in his shop, he’s still subdued against her, his hands at his sides as one of her own slides up his chest, grasping at his lapel. But it’s a start, and she sucks on his bottom lip as she pulls away.

She raises an eyebrow at him, takes a sip of her martini. “Well?” she murmurs, and he stares at her with dark, dark eyes. “Is it working?”

He scowls at her, but then he’s reaching, his hand catching her by the back of the neck and pulling her to him in a bruising kiss. She drops the martini, doesn’t care that it shatters on the floor as he devours her mouth.

Now _this_ is more like it.

It’s all passion, has her gut churning with it as his teeth sink into her lip, has her moaning low in her throat as one of his arms wraps around her waist, bringing her body against his. She clutches at him, a hand sneaking around his shoulders, the other around his back, and she returns his kiss, fierce and rough as he is with her.

She backs up, dragging him with her toward the table, but he notices and resists her. It’s enough to make her pout as he pulls away from her mouth, and she answers his insistent _No_ with a perhaps too-whiny, “What now?”

“Not _here_ ,” he whispers, and there’s something haunted in his eyes, some ghost the Queen doesn’t know the story behind but she can guess. She knows how her sister felt about Rumple, and she had his dagger, had him under her control. And Rumple would do anything to get his dagger back.

“Somewhere more comfortable?” she suggests, keeping her voice seductive, her fingers dancing up and down his lapel.

His brow furrows, the shadow lingering in his eyes, but then she leans forward, starts a trail of kisses along his jaw. He stiffens, still caught in whatever memory, but then she brushes her lips against his neck, a spot she’s learned is quite sensitive for him. It brings him back to the present properly, has his hands gripping at her hips, and he’s turning his head until their lips meet again.

The Queen smirks against his mouth, teasingly licking at his lip as she pulls away. “I think I know just the place to go,” she says, tossing in a sexy little wink, and then throwing her hand up to engulf them in a cloud of smoke.

They reappear in a bedroom, and she doesn’t give him any time to inspect the surroundings, immediately pulling him to her by his tie. “You’re overdressed,” she mutters against his lips, kissing him even as she starts tugging at the tie, unknotting it.

Rumple lets out a little chuckle, saying, “ _I’m_ overdressed, Your Majesty?” His fingers grip the heavy fabric of her skirts, then seek out the ties of her corset. “I think you might be overstating my attire and underestimating your own.”

She rolls her eyes. “Would you prefer I traipse around in those hideous pantsuits my other half insists on wearing?” she asks, pulling back so she can properly raise a skeptical eyebrow at him.

He hides it well, but she sees the glint in his eyes, and she _Oh_ s in understanding, her face shifting from skeptical to interested.

“Had a few fantasies about Madam Mayor, Mr. Gold?” she purrs, raising her voice an octave so that it’s closer to Regina’s . The shiver that runs through him is almost imperceptible, but she’s pressed against him, she can feel it. Her mischievous grin widens, and she can’t resist leaning in to nip at his earlobe. “We could pretend, if you wanted to…”

She hears his soft moan, and then he’s turning his head, leaning in to kiss her again. It’s fierce, reminiscent of the kisses in the backroom of his shop, and the Queen clutches at his shoulders, her own moan escaping as he kisses down her throat. When he scrapes his teeth over her rapidly beating pulse, she whines low, feels the echo of her heartbeat between her legs.

Rumple hears her, and this time he’s the one grinning, she can feel his lips quirk against her skin as he samples her collarbone. “Did you like that, Your Majesty?” he murmurs, and drags his teeth over her again, eliciting another little shiver and gasping moan.

The Queen doesn’t respond, not beyond the way she grinds against him, her hips moving of their own accord as he continues to tease her, his mouth slowly moving down the uncovered expanse of her chest. She’s glad she changed into this particular dress, pleased to have so much of her cleavage on display as his tongue traces the swell of her breast. But as she tries to grind against him again, there's too many layers, her skirt too voluminous for any proper friction.

The dress needs to go — as do his clothes, she thinks, and she’s shoving at him, as much as she hates to lose his mouth on her breasts. But she'll enjoy it more without the corset in his way, and she can feel the slick slide of wetness between her legs, wants to feel _him_ there. So she pulls him away from her chest, her hand at his head and the other on his shoulder. He looks up at her with a slackened mouth, eyes dark with lust, and her pulse quickens.

They’re going to do this, and Gods, she wants this, needs _something_. Revenge hasn't been as filling as she thought, and she needs something to replace it, needs something to feel better, and this will do it. She can do this, can take this, take him, and it will feel good, it already does, already feels better.

She smiles at him, licking her kiss-swollen lips, and she _knows_ he doesn’t love her. She doesn’t love him, either, doesn’t love anything except revenge and power and winning. And this feels like winning, having the Dark One stare at her like that, enthralled by her, all thoughts of Belle or Zelena have gone from his mind.

The Queen shoves his suit jacket off his shoulders, then starts pulling at his tie and unbuttoning shirt. She considers using magic — thinks one of them will certainly use it to get her undressed — but she wants this right now, wants to strip him and then have her way with him. It sends a little lick of power through her, and she can’t resist leaning in to kiss him some more.

Smoke surrounds her, makes her scowl as she feels magic whisking her clothes away. She didn’t think he’d use magic so soon, but he must be impatient, judging by the way he takes hold of her hips. He spins her, urging her towards the bed, almost pushing her towards it. He wants her on her knees, she realizes, and she tries to turn back to look at him even as he gets her on the bed.

“What do you think you’re doing?” the Queen scowls, palms braced against the mattress as she locks her knees. She will not kneel there for him, will not be taken like this.

Rumple presses against her, and she shivers at the brush of fabric against her naked skin. “Now, now, Your Majesty,” he murmurs into her ear, nipping at her earlobe. “Be a good girl and behave… It would be a shame to have to _punish_ you.”

Fuck. That makes her moan before she can stop it, the mere _thought_ of it. She doesn’t know what it is about him that makes her like this , makes her want the punishment, makes her want to submit to him. So she goes willingly, climbs onto all fours on the bed, stomach churning with arousal and a bit of indignity.

She's a queen, and more than a bit refined, but here she is, on her knees, naked and exposed to the Dark One's hungry gaze. And is he ever hungry, she can see it when she looks back at him. It makes her smirk, to see him look at her like that, like a meal to be devoured and enjoyed, because she’s done this. She’s reduced him to this, distracted him from his murderous rage toward her sister with the promise of her body, and she might be on her knees but she’s still in control.

The Queen can’t resist wriggling for him, enticing him with the curve of her ass, and when Rumple muffles a little groan into her shoulder, she chuckles.

“See something you like, Rumple?” she teases, and he bites her, a soft reprimand that has her gasping.

“Don’t get too cocky,” he tells her, but he runs his palm down her back, his fingers light, nails softly dragging over her spine and she shudders in anticipation as they reach the swell of her rear.

“That’s your job, isn’t it?” she replies, moaning in surprise when his hand comes down on her right cheek in a stinging slap.

“I’m tired of your cheek, Your Majesty,” he says, roughly kneading the skin he just spanked. “You never did understand when you needed to be _quiet_ , did you?”

The Queen laughs, low and throaty. “Gonna teach me a lesson, after all, teacher?”

She feels the familiar electricity of magic, the smell of ozone in the air, and then he presses against her, his hips to hers and he’s as naked as she is. She makes an eager sound low in her throat, can’t resist pushing back against him, feeling his hardness against her core.

Behind her, Rumple thrusts, not inside of her but against her, sliding through her wetness and bumping against her clit. He teases, listens to the soft noises of desire she makes, and she could kill him for the way he laughs at her.

“So needy, Your Majesty,” he murmurs to her, one hand slipping around her front to toy with her clit, the other resting on her hip, holding tight as she tries to move in his grasp.

“Stop playing around, Rumplestiltskin,” she orders, doing her best to sound regal and commanding when she’s dripping wet. She gasps, the hand at her clit moving away to come down hard on her ass, a keening sound escaping her.

“What did I tell you, _Regina_?” he asks, voice flinty in a way that sends a desirous shiver down her spine.

She scowls because she is throbbing, desperate for a release she’s been chasing since she came to his shop. Everything has been building to this moment, and now that it’s finally in her reach, all she wants is to have it. And now he’s going to deny her, make her beg, and she _will not_.

However, she will say, “Do you want to get interrupted again? Because I’m not looking forward to getting cau—a _h_!”

Suddenly his cock is inside her, pushing in and stretching her. It hurts, just enough to have her shuddering in pain and pleasure as he thrusts in, and her fingers fist the bedding beneath her as she adjusts. He gives her a moment, his forehead pressed into the curve of her neck, and it’s almost tender. He kisses her skin, trails kisses along her shoulders, and then gives a shallow thrust.

This time, the sound she makes is more pleasurable, and her head falls forward as he thrusts again, again, slowly building speed. “Oh, yes,” she breathes out, fingers clenching and unclenching as he pumps in and out of her, searching for that spot inside of her. When he finds it, she moans brokenly, pleasure sparking through her, radiating out from where they’re joined.

“Right there, Your Majesty?” he murmurs, nibbling at her ear, and she can’t resist turning her head, capturing his mouth with hers in a sloppy kiss as he fucks her. His pace has picked up now, his hands holding tight to her hips as he thrusts, pounding into her, harder, faster.

“Yes,” she moans against his lips, breath catching at every movement of his hips into hers. “So good,” she adds, sinking to her elbows and tilting her hips, taking him deeper.

The change has them both moaning and gasping, and the Queen whines as she realizes how close she is. She just needs a little more, needs something on her clit. She shifts, trying to ease a hand down between her body and the bedspread without changing the angle too much.

Rumple’s hand moves lightning fast, locking around her wrist and pinning it to the bed. The _No_ he growls is stern and forbidding, his hips smacking into hers almost punishingly.

“Rumple,” she groans, trying to twist her wrist in his grip. She needs that touch, needs something to push her over. “I’m close,” she husks, hoping he’ll take pity on her. “I need—”

“Hmm, what do you need, Your Majesty?” he murmurs, nuzzling into her neck, nipping at her skin and _fuck_.

“Need to come,” she whimpers, hips churning, pleasure coiling in her belly. “I — Gods, so close — Rumple!”

She won’t beg, she won’t, she refuses. But she needs him to touch her clit, or to let her touch her clit, or fuck it all, she has _magic_. She twists her wrist again, sends a little pulse of magic through the air to where she needs it, and it’s maybe not as good as having the physical touch but it gets the job done.

The Queen comes with a loud cry, muscles clenching and fluttering around Rumple’s cock, and he groans something like, “You little cheat,” even as he rides her through her orgasm. She’d laugh if she wasn’t too busy coming, soft, satisfied moans falling from her lips as the quakes of pleasure dull to aftershocks.

Rumple slows his hips to a halt, stilling inside of her, and she can tell he hasn’t come yet. The thought makes her shiver, a little gasp escaping her as she thinks of how he might fuck her next. Or how she’ll fuck him. Yes, she thinks maybe it’s time for her to reclaim control.

She wriggles beneath him, trying to urge him off of her, but it backfires a little. He’s still inside her, and he can’t help the way he moans and thrusts against her, chasing her wet heat. She smirks, ready to tease him for his lack of control when he spanks her again.

“Wha— _ah_!” she gasps, hips bucking when a second slap quickly follows the first.

“I do believe I told you _no_ , Your Majesty,” he murmurs, landing two more blows to her ass.

The Queen moans, writhing underneath him as he delivers a fifth spank. She chuckles breathlessly, shooting back, “I wanted to come, so I took matters into my own hands. Figuratively speaking.”

“I wasn’t ready for you to come yet,” he says, and then he’s pulling out of her, laughing when she clenches around him, trying to keep him in. He grasps her shoulder, trying to manipulate her into the position he wants her in, but she fights him.

She rises up on her knees, turning around and pulling him into a bruising kiss. “My turn,” she says into his mouth, biting hard on his bottom lip and relishing the groan he makes in response.

Tugging him down onto the bed, she shoves him onto his back, and throws a leg over his so that she’s straddling him. She takes a second, just to appreciate having the Dark One underneath her, the way he _lets_ her do this. She enjoys the way his breath catches at seeing her above him, the way he can’t quite hide the look in his eyes as they roam hungrily over her body.

“Touch me, Rumple,” she orders, reaching for his hands and bringing them to her breasts. He doesn’t need more invitation than that, fingers eagerly kneading the swells and plucking at her nipples. It makes her moan, and her hips grind against him as he plays with her breasts. “Mmm, that’s it...”

He raises up then, one hand sliding behind her back and urging her down a bit, so he can catch one peak between his lips, his tongue working over the hardened nipple before he sucks. The Queen _oh_ s sharply when his teeth scrape over her, and he groans against her skin.

“Your Majesty,” he mutters into her chest, kissing his way from one breast to the next. He doesn’t continue his sentence, his palm moving from her back to her hip, encouraging her grinding.

“Yes, dear?” the Queen teases, though her breathing is getting heavier as he touches her and her rocking increases, dragging her wetness over his erection. She wants him inside of her again, wants to come around his cock. She can guess that he wants the same but she wants to draw this out like he did with her.

He releases her nipple with a pop, scowling up at her. “Coy doesn’t become you,” he says, matter of fact, and then he’s gripping her hips with both hands, guiding her over his cock and easing her down.

She lets him, can’t resist the desire, and a full-throated moan escapes her as he fills her again. She takes him to the hilt, and for a moment she stays over him, her hands holding tight to his shoulders.

“Move,” he orders, but she shakes her head, enjoying the feel of him hard and full inside of her, the way her muscles clench and flutter. “ _Regina_ ,” he growls, and her eyes pop open.

Is he thinking of her, she wonders. She digs her nails into his shoulders, smiles at the little hiss of pain he gives. “Try again?” she suggests, holding still even as he tries to get her to move.

He rolls his eyes at her, bucking his hips as best he can with her full weight against him. “ _Your Majesty_ ,” he says with absolutely no respect for her title, and she thinks about punishing him some more.

He certainly deserves it, considering she can still feel his handprints on her ass. So she moves, but shallowly, barely rolling her hips over him and watching the way the tortuously slow motion makes his face contort in fleeting pleasure. “Is that what you wanted, Rumple?” she asks, raising an eyebrow at him, an evil smirk dancing upon her lips.

“You know it’s not,” he grumbles. He takes a page out of her book, a hand sneaking from her hip to her rear, and groping where he popped her.

The pain sends delicious shivers of pleasure up her spine, her back arching as her head falls back, and she can’t resist rolling her hips over him again, maintaining that slow pace just to hear him groan. But he’s not finished, that groping hand letting go just to deliver another pop, and pain blooms strong enough to make her yelp.

“Fuck,” she whines, and this time her hips grind a little faster, a little harder. “Fuck you, Rumple.”

He smirks, chuckling as his own hips move to meet hers. “You’re doing that already, dearie,” he points out, and now both hands are on her ass, holding tight as he guides her over him.

She’s past teasing now, spurred on by the pain-pleasure of his fingers gripping her reddened skin. She rocks harder, faster, takes him in quicker and quicker passes of her hips over his. He groans and grunts beneath her, thrusting up as she moves down, driving himself deeper into her and it has her moaning, crying out.

It’s delicious, intense, the pleasure rising in her body as they come together again and again. Her eyes close tightly as she feels the beginnings of orgasm building, the tension in her belly coiling tighter and tighter. She can’t help the keening cry that escapes her as she tumbles over the edge once more, gripping the bedding beneath him tightly as she loses her rhythm.

He holds onto her, clutching her hips as he drives into her, fucking her even as she comes down from her high. He keeps her moving, chasing his own orgasm as she trembles. It doesn’t take many more thrusts before he’s following her over , his hips finally stilling underneath her.

The Queen slumps over him, breathing heavily as aftershocks of pleasure course through her. He hasn’t released his grip on her hips yet, fingers still holding tight, and she shivers to think of the bruises she’ll find there later. She lifts her head, seeking out his mouth and kissing him deeply, her tongue slipping languidly against his until she breaks the kiss for air. With a soft grunt, she levers off of him, rolling to her side and sinking into the soft bed.

Her sister’s bed and she can’t help but chuckle. Of course, this was exactly what she had intended when she brought him here, but in her passion she had forgotten all about it.

Rumple turns his head to look at her, still a little breathless himself, his face marred with understandable confusion.

She smirks at him, rising up on her elbow and reaching over to stroke his lips. Her lipstick is smeared over his mouth, down his neck, and he makes quite the debauched picture. She can only imagine what she looks like.

“Zelena _did_ want you in her bed,” she says, and she sees the understanding dawn in his eyes. She’s tired, satiated for now, but she can’t resist leaning over to kiss him, to claim him. It’s deep, possessive, her teeth sinking into his lip before she soothes it with her tongue. “I guess she got what she wanted.”

It could have been dangerous, reminding him of her sister at a time like this, not to mention bringing up the very reason he looked so haunted earlier. But her gamble pays off, has him chuckling, and he tangles his fingers in her hair, holding her in place for another kiss.

He pushes in until she’s on her back, and she really thought she was done, but he drags his fingertips down her collarbone to her breast, the touch light and teasing as his mouth follows the path. Then he’s whispering into the hollow of her throat, “It’d be a shame to disappoint her... Perhaps we should stay a little longer...”

The Queen moans her agreement, lets his weight settle on top of her. Her hand cups the back of his head as he kisses his way down her chest. He can stay as long as he likes, she muses, wondering vaguely if Zelena will be back.

She supposes Rumple is certainly hoping she will, though whether it’s because he still wants to kill her or if it’s because he wants her to see them like this to metaphorically drive the knife deeper. Truthfully, she doesn’t care, not as long as he doesn’t stop the way he’s sucking at a nipple, one hand cupping her breast to hold it to his mouth while the other plays with the breast unoccupied by his lips.

Let Zelena find them.


End file.
